Welcome to the Darkness, Friend. Here in the Wood things are happening. Take today, for instance: first thing I notice, trees are moving. No, not swaying the way you’d expect trees to do, but doing a sort of frenzied foxtrot, know what I mean? Cool! Then the TV tells me to expect wind. I hate that. Who wants to hear that stuff? If I want to know I can expect wind, I’ll order some on the WoodWideWeb. You get me?

You guessed it; I prefer the unexpected, there’s too much same-old in the Wood these days. Shoots come up in Spring, leaves turn brown in the Fall, snow falls in Winter. That’s just so uncool. And now I’m going to be waiting for wind instead of doing something useful like clearing out my Toolshed. Not many Woodies even have a Toolshed. But I have. Mine has secret compartments; I’m not kidding. Last year I dug out the floor and installed them. Want to know what’s in there? Really? Well, I might tell you, but not right now – forgive me, but I hardly know you. I don’t even know your name; mine’s Hunter, didn’t I say? I’m still getting my Toolshed together, hidden compartments, secret stuff – everyone needs secret places, they’re just so cool. And I’m building… Hey! that was close, nearly let slip, didn’t I?

On my way today, I meet up with a couple of fellow Woodies. We stop and shake before passing on the latest news. Want to hear it? Okay, but keep it to yourself, right? There’s a rumour afoot that Weasels from the Long Hill are sneaking into the Dale. That will never work; the Dale belongs to the Rabbits, always has, always will. Weasels don’t always take notice of stuff like that, though. They’re kinda like a law onto themselves. Wouldn’t be surprised if they were to start with some of their sly Weasel tricks, trying to scare the Rabbits off from their burrows. Rabbits are okay, but they sure act dumb. They just hop and skip and dig holes and stuff their little rabbit mouths with green things, when they should be looking out for bad guys. Like Weasels, right? Trouble’s coming, that’s for sure. But I’ll be ready, when it comes. Time for me to go into my Toolshed and root out my Cover Cloak.

Well, I warned you all, that’s for sure, but did you listen? If there’s one thing I can do, it’s smell trouble. The Weasels have been up to no good and invaded the Dale. They snuck in two nights ago and blocked up the main entrances to the rabbit burrows: then, when all the dumb rabbits were panicking and running and jumping in all directions like excited grasshoppers, the Weasels just moved on in and took over their burrows. Now the dumb rabbits are too scared to go back to their homes. They’re just sitting there, out in the open, on the slopes of Long Hill, with their kittens squeaking and shivering around them. Don’t they know the foxes will be along soon? What’s to be done? I sure hate to see the little rabbit babies made homeless. For two cents, I might just go down there myself and send those Weasels packing, yessir, I just might do that.
To be continued…